


Everything is Alright

by Setkia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Artist Steve, Insecure Steve, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Some angst, hopefully humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9815732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: “Tell me something, Steve. Who bought you that watch?”Steve looked down at his wrist fondly. “Bucky.”“And who bought you the suit you’re wearing?”Steve played with the cuffs of said suit, sensing this was about to go somewhere he didn’t want it to. “Bucky,” he said hesitantly.“And what about your phone?”“I bought my phone, Bucky just-”“Pays the phone bill. Steve, do you see what I’m getting at?” Steve blinked. “Bucky’s your sugar daddy!”Steve choked on his own spit. “He is not!”“He bought you a CAR!”“That doesn’t mean anything.”Natasha raised an eyebrow.“Okay fine, I see your point, but it’s not like I’m even having sex with him or anything!”“That just makes it worse! It means he’s just straight up in love with you!”Steve’s ears perked up and he grinned. “You think so?”Natasha rolled her eyes and moaned, tossing her head back in what looked like agony. “Oh my fucking God, Steve Rogers, how are you a genius again?”





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> I should not be writing this. Why? Because I've only JUST seen the Avengers movie like, this morning but I got really excited and really wanted to write it. It is in no way properly formatted, or properlly, or fully done, not even close, but I wanted to try and endeavour in it. This'll probably be a disaster. Sorry. I don't own these characters. Also, I will be watching more of Marvel and will adjust myself appropriately. I have a thing for Pre-Serum Steve. Also, set in alternate universe/modern times where Bucky went to war when he was 21 and Steve has started to turn himself into an artist. Rating MAY change.

_ “I can be an artist and make a career out of it! Being an artist is not synonymous with starvation!” _

Steve Rogers’ stomach growled loudly. He glared at it with distaste. He was twenty-six, a good eight years older than the stupid child who declared that he would become a thriving artist with his skill and determination. Now he sat in a Brooklyn coffee shop, sipping it black, with a blank sketchpad in front of him. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to get work, and it wasn’t that he didn’t have enough money (okay maybe that was part of it), but it was really just because he didn’t have any inspiration. The trash bin at his run-down small apartment was overflowing with incomplete sketches, charcoal, paint, pencils, stray erasers and inking pens were scattered around the small area he called “home”. 

He didn’t chose the small apartment because it was all he could afford. He chose it because it was in the middle of the city and while sometimes it made it hard for him to sleep, it was exactly what he needed. Life around him, people busy at work, children playing in the streets, they were what sparked his imagination, they were his muse. Life in motion, the loud bustle of the city. It was what inspired him.

He got by well, perhaps if he had done as his parents wanted and became a lawyer, or an accountant, or something, he could do better. He was able to pay for his prescriptions and his rent and buy black coffee when he wanted it, so he was content. 

Steve furrowed his brow and shook his head. He could do this. He was just lacking inspiration at the current time. He began to doodle with no clear idea, began to make eyes that were so sharp, they could pierce the soul. The set of eyes were vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“Mommy gonna hang that one on the fridge?”

Steve jumped, his knees hitting the top of the table, his body lurching forward to protect the image he had just drawn. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like it was private.

But wait, he recognized that voice.

“Bucky?”

Looking behind him, Steve could see him clear as day, his best friend of years, James  Buchanan Barnes, after what must’ve been …. Five years of military service? He was all grown-up now, with a broader build (and that was saying something), grey eyes sparkling but behind them, Steve could see there was a certain trauma that no one could escape after going out into a warzone. 

Bucky grinned at Steve widely before taking a seat across from him. “What are you working on these days? They finally leave you alone to your oil paints and shit?”

Steve chuckled. Bucky never did really get art the way Steve did, but he tried and Steve appreciated it. “Between customers right now, haven’t been doing too badly. Got any scars, Soldier?”

Steve froze for a second. Was that insensitive of him to say? Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Bucky clench his fist which was covered by his shirt’s sleeve. It was the middle of July. Why was he wearing long sleeves?

Bucky laughed, but it sounded like it got stuck in his throat. “Enough to make the girls go wild,” he said.

The blond bit his bottom lip. Ah yes, in those five years of absence, had Steve really forgotten the most obvious thing about Bucky? “You holding up okay?” he asked, turning the conversation serious suddenly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Do I not look okay?”

_ Perfect. You look perfect. But you always look that way. _

“I just figured … you know … I’ve heard stories of PTSD and all.”

“Not everyone who goes out to war gets PTSD Steve.”

Steve stared at Bucky pointedly. “Did you?”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, his fist clenching again.

He had his answer.

“Tell me you’re seeing someone.”

“Wow, didn’t know you wanted to ship me off to the next Lois Lane,-”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”  _ Stop it, you’re clearly making him uncomfortable, what happened to banter? To fun times? Get your head on straight Rogers. “ _ Anyway, how long since you’ve been back?”

“‘Bout two hours.”

Steve balked. “What?”

“Yeah, my flight got in slightly over an hour ago, dropped my shit off at my apartment, then went to your apartment, but you weren’t there. Asked a friendly old lady where you’d be, she directed me here.”

“Have you even spoken to your mother?”

“No …” Bucky tensed. “Should I have?”

“You just got back from military service and you go to your friend before your own mother? What kind of son are you?” Steve would never admit how much it made him want to grin stupidly, that Bucky had prioritized him over the woman who gave birth to him, hadn’t even thought of his mother until that very second and it was obvious from the look on Bucky’s face his mother was the farthest thought from his mind until then.

“Shit, I gotta go and see her. She’s gonna bite my head off if I don’t go.”

Steve laughed and Bucky grinned back at him. “Run, save your sorry ass.”

“We’ll catch up later, alright? I’ll drop by your apartment.” Bucky dropped a few bills on the table. “For your drink.”

“It’s good to have you back, Buck.”

“Good to be back, Steve.”

Steve laughed. “Now go, before she starts calling me. She knew you were scheduled to land today, didn’t she?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bucky said, laughter thick in the air. “Make me some dinner, I’ll be over at seven.”

“Is that a date?”

“Only if you want it to be, Stevie,” Bucky said.

_ I want.  _

Instead, Steve shook his head. “Go!”

Bucky gave him a goofy grin as he exited the coffee shop, alive and jubilant as always. It was almost like he had never left. Except those years of feeling lost and wandering, of going through the motions, five years nothing but a blurry memory of sleeping and paints and lots of black and white sketches. But judging by the way Steve’s heart was beating, nothing had changed. 

If anything, this stupid crush had gotten worse.


	2. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters. I know like, ziltch about Bucky except from what I've learnt from fanfics, cause I've only ever seen him in a single movie, so sorry in advance. I am so glad this story is getting a postitive response and I just started. I literally have no idea wehre this story is going though so .... I have a vague idea. I also heard that Bucky's arm was made by some tech that wasn't from Stark. I'm one movie away from The Winter Soldier, when I'm sure I'll learn more. So yeah, POV will alternate between Steve and Bucky. Yay. Hope this doesn't suck. Thank you guys for your positive response!

Could he have been more obvious?

Bucky groaned and laid on his back in the back of the cab. He told the driver where to go and shut his eyes tightly.

Five years and Steve still seemed the exact same. Same brilliant blue eyes, same dashing blond hair. He had grown a bit, though not much, still as skinny as ever, almost on worrying levels, but he seemed otherwise healthy, which meant he was taking his medication as he was supposed to be doing. Bucky remembered back when they first entered high school Steve had an asthma attack during gym class, and when Bucky asked him where his inhaler was, Steve said he didn’t have it, he didn’t want to look weak in the eyes of the others, didn’t want to be made fun of by the seniors. Bucky was glad he was over that and realized the importance of keeping himself alive.

He really was an idiot at times, unable to form proper, coherent sentences.

His skinny toothpick of a best friend was going to be the death of him.

Bucky lifted his arm slightly, out of the view of the driver but high enough to see it properly given his angle. Slowly, he pulled at the sleeve and let his hand become exposed. He flexed his fingers. He felt a combination of revulsion and amazement at the steel that greeted his gaze. The technology was ridiculously advanced, not even Stark Inc had thought of this design and Bucky knew when he finally felt comfortable showing it to others (if that time even existed, he highly doubted it), Tony would be jealous. It was still a prototype though and he knew if he wasn’t careful he was going to crush something. The machine had some kinks to it, but what machine didn’t?

Bucky still couldn’t see it as a part of himself, it wasn’t him. It was an extension, an extension he was against. He would’ve rathered he was left with only one arm. He felt as though perhaps it would raise less questions than this new mechanic. 

Somehow he had gotten through the whole meeting with Steve without destroying the table and had kept it out of Steve’s view.

Bucky knew Steve. Steve had an artistic eye, and sometimes, before Bucky left, he would draw him. Steve liked to chose his subjects, he liked to draw those who were around them and show them how he saw them, in his eyes. 

The world through the eyes of Steve Rogers was beautiful. Bucky was not.

Perhaps before Bucky had been a nice subject, a friendly face with handsome features who liked to dance. But now, after everything that had happened to him, Bucky knew Steve would look at him differently. He knew he looked different. There were bags under his eyes, the gleam in his pupils had gone missing, his youth had been stripped from him. Now if Steve were to draw him, Bucky was certain he’d never find another beautiful thing in him, and he wasn’t sure if he could take it.

The taxi stopped and Bucky got out, handing the driver some money. He took a deep breath and walked up the steps, but before he could ring the bell, the door opened.

“Bucky, Mom’s-”

That was about the most warning Bucky got before Winifred Barnes wrapped herself aggressively around her son’s body and practically took back the breath she had given him in the first place. 

“I heard your flight got in two hours ago, where have you been?”

_ Sitting in a coffee shop, paying for my best friend’s coffee. _

“Got … distracted,” Bucky said, pushing at his mother’s chest gently in an attempt to get air into his lungs again. Almost immediately though, his sleeve rolled up and he forced it back down. “Mom, you’re squishing me.”

With a surprised gasp, as though she had just realized that Bucky really did need to breathe, Winifred pulled back from her son and grinned brightly. “Well, you can’t blame a mother for being worried. I haven’t seen you in five years!”

“Yes well …” he shrugged. “You know how it is.”

“Come sit down, we’ll get you some food-”

“I’m actually kinda tired, I thought maybe I could just drop by, say hello and then once I was more settled in I’d come and hang out with you guys,” Bucky said, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Mom made you some food, you gotta at least  _ taste _ it,” said Rebecca. “I know you have a huge appetite.” She looked friendly but Bucky knew she was going to interrogate the shit out of him the moment they were alone. He sighed. It was best to get it over with, and he couldn’t deny it felt good to be back in a familiar environment.

As Bucky had predicted, after he had eaten, the moment he entered the vestibule to leave, Rebecca was by his side, leaning towards him on the balls of her feet. It looked innocent and it was. If you didn’t know her. 

“So … how’s Steve?”

Bucky shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, taking his jacket off the coat rack. “How should I know?”

“Oh come on Buck, you’ve been back for three hours, and you didn’t turn up here until recently. What were you doing between when you got here and when you landed?”

“I relaxed? Tried to sleep off the jetlag like any sane person?”

“Brother dear, since when have you ever been sane?”

“Rebecca-”

“How’s Steve?” she pressed.

Bucky put his jacket on and played with his zipper. “Good. He’s good.”

“That’s good.” It was clear she wasn’t done with him yet. Bucky waited, his fingers tapping on the zip, readying himself for whatever bomb she was going to drop. “Fucked him yet?”

“Rebecca!”

“Just asking,” Rebecca said with an innocent smile that fooled no-one. “I’ll take that as a no, you’d be much happier if you had gotten some. But in all seriousness, when are you going to ask him out?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Oh come on-”

“He’s not like that Becca,” Bucky said, trying to pull the zipper up, but it got stuck. He tried to force it, without using too much force. 

“Not like what?” 

“You know what.”

“I’m just saying-”

_ SNAP! _

Bucky stared at the broken zipper to his jacket. He had lost control. He wasn’t sure if he should attribute the broken zipper to the machine, or to his own temper, which he knew was bad. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching and unclenching them, unsure what to do with them now. “Steve is my best friend, I think I’d know if he was gay.”

“And you’d think he’d know if you were-”

“I’m not gay,” Bucky snapped. “I’m bi.”

“Steve could be too.”

_ Don’t do that. Don’t give me ideas. _

Bucky let out a hollow laugh. “And who says he goes for me?”

“I do.”

“And your word is God?”

“Pretty damn close.”

Bucky ruffled her hair. “I’m going to get going. Tell Mom I’ll be over again some time later this week.”

Rebecca tried to slap his hand away but he pulled it back before she could. He couldn’t let his sleeves roll up. He really should’ve thought of covering it before he went out. Maybe he’d start a Michael Jackson thing, where he wore a glove on one hand, and turned it into a fashion statement. 

He stepped outside the house and Rebecca met his gaze, the ferocity in her eyes unavoidable. 

“Tell him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

The two siblings knew those words all too well. 

Bucky had been saying them for the better part of ten years and without fail, each time, his decision was the same. 

_ It’s better if he doesn’t know. _


	3. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel slightly better having seen Winter Soldier now, I don't own Marvel or the characters in any way. And yeah, there's Supernatural references. Cause I saw some of it on Saturday and it gave me nightmares and I watched episode 1 of season 1, then went straight to Castiel and I might actually watch it properly but yeah, they're watching it.

Bucky was coming over in two hours.

Steve had two hours to make his mess of an apartment seem clean. As Steve looked up from his barely functioning TV screen and analyzed his surroundings, he came to the realization that the apartment was uninhabitable. There were take-out cartons, stray papers, incomplete sketches, paint stains, clothes and worse covering the main living room and joint kitchen. Bucky was coming over for dinner. For dinner. Which meant food. Food Steve definitely did not have in his fridge.

What the fuck was he thinking, inviting Bucky over for dinner?

Well no, Bucky had invited himself over. But Steve should’ve stopped him. But he had wanted to see him so badly after so long without him and he coudln’t bring himself to regret it. It was strange going so long without his friend by his side, Steve had stumbled through the past five years without real guidance.

As he began to throw all his stuff into the closet, wading his way through a sea of dirty laundry, he couldn’t find it within himself to resent his decision. A part of him was bubbly excited at the prospect of seeing his friend after so long. 

Steve froze. He didn’t know how to cook. Hopefully Bucky wouldn’t hate him for take-out? It wasn’t like Bucky didn’t know that Steve knew his way around the kitchen as much as Bucky knew his way around the art store. 

When his doorbell rang at seven on the dot, he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and took a shaky breath before opening the door.

Holy shit. Bucky was not allowed to look that hot.

Bucky was wearing skinny jeans and a letterman jacket from that one year he was on the football team, before he opted out since Steve was getting beat up by some of the bastards there. Around his neck hung a dog tag. Even with this knock-out look, Bucky seemed slightly hesitant to step into the room, teetering on his heels. “So … you gonna let me in, Stevie?”

Steve jumped and nodded, wiping his mouth when his back was turned to Bucky, just in case. “What’s for dinner?”

“Indian?”

Bucky laughed. God, how Steve had missed that sound. “Did you even try to make anything?”

“Did you want a building to eat in?” 

Bucky clasped his hands together and licked his lips, Steve’s eyes tracing the movement with a bit too much to be normal.

Soon they were sitting crossed legged on the couch, watching  _ Supernatural _ . How it’s possible that out of everything Bucky’s missed while he was away was two brothers fighting demons blew Steve’s mind.

“Oh my God, is she bleeding from her eyes?!”

“She said to show her his face,” Steve said with a shrug.

Steve wanted to laugh, watching as Bucky curled into himself and winced. “How are you okay with this?”

“It’s not real, you’re the war veteran, how am I better at handle this than you?”

“Oh, just shut up.”

Throughout the episode, Steve laughed as Bucky cringed and laughed and screamed through the episode until they got to the barn. “Shhh,” Steve said, throwing out his arm as if somehow Bucky’s chest was connected to his voice box. “This is the best part.”

There was thunder and crashing sounds and then in walked the angel.

“Isn’t he supposed to be blond?”

“No, that’s Carlisle.”

“Oh.” The sound of Bucky chewing and finishing his last piece of chicken echoed in the room. “Then who is he?”

“That, is the one who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.” 

“Which means …?”

“Castiel.”

“Right … So the difference between him and Carlisle is?”

“Carlisle’s a vampire, Cass is an angel.”

“He’s hot, that’s what he is.”

Steve choked. He started to pound at his chest forcefully as a piece of rice got stuck in his throat. Bucky just kept on watching, as if his friend wasn’t dying from shock at the sudden appearance of seemingly-existent bisexuality from his best friend of years.

“He’s so extra,” said Bucky, rolling his eyes. “I mean he’s fucking badass as fuck, obviously, but like- did he just stab him?” Bucky leaned back in the couch. “Love at first stab, how sweet.”

Steve doubled over and with a forceful cough, he dislodged the meat from his esophagus. 

“Are they having eye-sex? They’re totally having eye-sex, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, some would call it that,” Steve managed to choke out, his voice slightly rough around the edges. 

“Shit man, are you okay?” asked Bucky, turning to his side and patting Steve on the back. The sheer force of his pat was making Steve lurch forward and he couldn’t figure out why. Had Bucky gotten really buff while he was away? He looked about as fit as he always did. “Hold on, I’ll get you some water-”

“I’m fine,” said Steve, shaking his head. _ I’m just freaking out right now because my very straight best friend may not be so straight after all. Then again, Misha Collins is Misha Collins and I think he turns everyone at least a bit gay and why are you focusing on this right now? Bucky is rubbing your back soothingly- _

“Stop overthinking whatever you’re overthinking,” Bucky said, his hand making comforting circles on Steve’s back to try and relax him. It was working. A bit too well, to the point where Steve felt like melting right into Bucky’s touch. He tried to stay strong, but Steve wasn’t known for his strong bone structure. He let himself collapse into Bucky’s touch, holding in a sigh because maybe he could get away with the leaning, but he definitely could not get away with the almost sexual sound he would’ve let out if he didn’t bite his lip. “You okay now?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, focusing his gaze on the screen so as to avoid Bucky seeing the obvious blush arising on his cheeks. “I’m all good Buck.”

Still, Bucky used his hand to guide Steve into a proper sitting position on the couch and left a trail of fire everywhere his fingers touched.

“So …” Steve sucked in a deep breath. “You like Cass?”

Bucky folded his arms and huffed. “He’s meh ....”

“You’re such a fucking liar,” Steve said with a laugh, nudging Bucky in the shoulder lightly. “You love him and his awkward human ways.”

“Did he really think Dean meant it when he said ‘thanks’? Cause his voice was dripping with sarcasm. Just how low are their voices?”

“Low enough to cause the actors some trouble,” Steve shrugged. He turned off the TV and repositioned himself on the couch to face his friend. “Got any stories you want to tell me?”

“About nearly dying?” Bucky laughed. “Yeah, right. How about you?” Bucky tucked his legs underneath him and gave Steve his care-free grin that held more weight than usual. “Got a girl yet?”

“Yes, with you out of the picture the girls were crawling to my door, I had to fight them off with a stick there was so many of them.” Steve laughed, trying to make it less self-pitying than it was. Bucky hated it when Steve was down on himself and Steve could understand why, he hated it when Bucky beat himself up over all the years before they were friends and he had let Steve get beaten up, but same way Bucky hadn’t been able to defend him when he didn’t know Steve, Steve just couldn’t stop the thoughts. It wasn’t hard to have them, especially when he was constantly comparing himself to others around him. That girl over there on the street was taller than him, Bucky was more muscular than Steve could ever hope to be, that random dog who was panting could probably run faster and longer than Steve. That girl over there was prettier than him and that man who was hugging his boyfriend was more out than him. It was pretty easy to put himself down. He supposed he made an easy target, which was part of what made his high school years hell, though now that he was an adult and out of school it was less frequent, but still, strange looks every now and then and pitying gazes from doctors when then saw his medical history.

“Seriously? No one?”

Steve shook his head and played with the hole in his sock. It would sound even more pathetic if he said he was kinda hoping that one day Bucky would wake up and decided he liked men, or rather, liked small, short, asthmatic blonds with an obsession with Misha Collins. Maybe that was too much to hope for. Even if Bucky was showing signs of bisexuality, Steve knew tons of guys that Bucky would look at before he looked at Steve. 

“Wow they’re missing out.”

“You’re my best friend, you’re entitled to say that.”

Bucky shook his head defensively. “No way, I’m serious. You’ve got talent, you’re a skilled artist, got a wicked sense of humour-”

“You know people think I’m a bit dry,” Steve said. 

“Then that just means they can’t handle your sense of humour, and therefore are unworthy. Plus you’re cute.”

Steve’s breath hitched.  _ Stop it. He doesn’t mean it like that. _

“Yeah well …”

“I’d probably date you …” Bucky trailed off and Steve had to lean back into the couch, rubbing his neck to hide the blush that was slowly rising. The brunet cleared his throat hoarsely and then jumped off the couch so quickly, Steve nearly lost his balance. “I forgot, I got you something! Close your eyes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you just give it to me?”

“I want you to close your eyes,” Bucky insisted.

“That’s so stupid-”

“Please? For me?”

Steve closed his eyes while a voice in the back of his head screamed “whipped!”

He heard Bucky stand up and go around the couch and then something cold hit his skin. He felt himself shiver, Bucky’s breath close enough to taste. Steve had to bite his lip so he didn’t lick his lips, holding his breath. He waited a while and then he heard Bucky curse. “Haven’t trouble, Buck?”

“Shut up and be patient,” Bucky snapped good-heartedly.  

Steve shivered, Bucky’s voice directly in his ear. It sounds husky and low, a baritone he couldn’t quite stop himself from tingling from. It was so good to have him back. “Alright. Open your eyes.”

Steve did as told and was about to look down when Bucky screamed “Wait! Don’t look yet, I have to see your expression!”

Steve rolled his eyes and waited as Bucky made his way around the couch again and once he was staring directly at Steve, he nodded in confirmation.

Steve looked down and his breath caught in his throat.

It was a dog tag, with the words  _ Captain Rogers _ inscribed in it.

“Bucky …”

“So? You like it?” Bucky asked with a knowing grin.

Steve almost tackled him to the ground, hugging him tightly. A scent that was just  _ Bucky _ surrounded him and it felt like coming home. He gripped him as harshly as he dared without seeming too touchy and laughed. “It’s amazing.”

“Flip it over.”

Steve did as told and felt like crying.

_ Till the end of the line. _

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-”

“I never have to do anything,” Bucky said, “unless the commander told me to. But this is just for you, punk.”

Steve grinned as Bucky reached out and messed with his hair.

Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry from joy, or from sadness. The whole exchange was like something he had seen in movies, or actually, seen Bucky do. Watching him give gifts to his girlfriends. And that’s where it stung, because while he and Bucky had something unbreakable, a bond unlike any other, in the end the facts were the same:

The gift meant a lot to both of them, those words meant a lot and held a lot of water between them, but in the end, Steve would always care more than Bucky.


	4. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the MCU. Hope you guys like this chapter.

Bucky could not draw his eyes away from Steve’s neck and this time it was for completely non-sexual reasons. Besides the fact that the smooth, pale skin of Steve’s neck seemed to beckon to him like a light in the darkness, around it hung the dog tag. 

Bucky processed the way Steve spoke differently. 

He heard everything Steve was saying, could see his lips moving, knew the rhythm he spoke at, the tone of his voice, could probably tell you the natural pitch of his voice if he really tried, but somehow, despite his immense concentration on Steve, Bucky somehow managed to miss all the sentences Steve was saying. He knew the words, heard them coming out and knew what order they came in, but maybe he was just too preoccupied watching the way Steve’s lips formed certain words, or the way his eyes lit up when he got really heated during the conversation that made the natural flow of Steve’s speech pattern fly over his head.

Nonetheless, Bucky could listen to Steve rage about modern art for hours.

He had no fucking clue what Steve was talking about, but the blond was very passionate about it and that always made Bucky smile (stupidly, if you asked Becca).

“Jackson Pollock, anyone could do that. They hang blank canvases in museums now Buck! A while back I went to DC and you know what they had on display? A car. A car that was crushed underneath a boulder. Anyone could be a shitty driver and totally wreck their car!”

Bucky folded his legs underneath him. It had been at least an hour since they had seen the  _ Supernatural _ episode and Bucky had given Steve his gift. Somehow (and Bucky, to be honest, didn’t have his head completely in the conversation so he couldn’t tell you how exactly they ended up where they were) they ended up talking about Steve’s art and it eventually lead to a rant about what passed as “art” now a days. “Ever thought of being a comic book artist?” 

Steve lifted his head in surprise, no doubt a bit confused about why Bucky had interrupted his rant about oil paint and acrylics. “What?”

“Think about it, you could make money per printing, not even have to worry about commissions and all that.”

“I’d need a story first, you’re forgetting the ‘book’ part of ‘comic book’.  Someone willing to put up with me to write stuff for the art-”

“Bullshit. You’re plenty creative. What about that guy you came up with? Lieutenant Canada?”

“Captain America, but it’s pretty far-fetched-”

“As far-fetched as the DC multiverse?”

“No,” Steve admitted, “But still. The story of a pathetic person turned superhero who then gets cryogenically preserved for seventy years? Who’s going to want to read about that?”

“Well, if you ever do it, know I’ll be first in line.”

“Yeah, sure Buck. Like Captain America isn’t self-centered?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve heard of authors living vicariously through their characters. Cap is no different.”

“You want to be a war veteran from the 1940s, who went down in the Arctic and missed a date with a hot girl?”

“That’s not what I meant Buck,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “I mean it’s like … Cap is everything I’m not. He’s strong, he’s fit, he’s a hero. He got to fight.”

Bucky bit his lip. He knew Steve had enlisted and wanted to help in the war, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret all of the health problems that made Steve’s life hard for him. They kept him out of the front line and for that, he was grateful. “You can’t really think you’re not strong.”

“With my lungs?”

“Being strong doesn’t mean you can lift a thousand tons,” Bucky said. “I mean some of the strongest men I’ve ever met were probably only a few inches taller than you, and maybe just a tad wider. It’s the mental aspect a lot of the soldiers miss, the whole brains component. We fall into line like toy army men, we shoot when told to shoot, but take away the commander and what can we do? We don’t have any real brains, we just do what we’re told. And it costs us.” Bucky had to force himself to keep looking straight, to avoid glancing down at his arm. “Anyway, I think you could really do it.”

Steve tucked his legs underneath him on the couch and shrugged. His modesty was endearing and yet, it frustrated Bucky. He didn't see what Bucky saw, even if he told Steve to look in the mirror he knew how Steve’s mind worked, he wouldn't see anything exceptional. Steve’s eye for beauty had a fatal blind spot: himself.

Perhaps Steve would find it conceited if he thought of himself as beautiful, but Bucky knew he didn't see anything in himself. He had a self-deprecating sense of humour, aside from the occasional bullies who would like fun at him for all his health problems, he would often make himself the butt-end of a joke, out of his own violation but Bucky wasn't even sure if he realized he was doing it.

He wanted to tell him that he liked him, that Steve didn't have to worry about impressing anyone, Bucky was already speechless, but he wouldn't believe him. Plus with his reaction to Bucky’s insinuation that he found Misha Collins attractive and he  wouldn't mind dating Steve, it seemed obvious to him Steve wasn't interested. He knew Steve wasn't close minded, but maybe he'd think it would be weird for his friend to come onto him. You don't live in a rom-com Bucky, he reminded himself. Besides maybe Steve was one of those people who were okay with gay people, until they realized what being gay meant or something. But Bucky knew that deep down, Steve would be fine if he came out as bi, it was just Bucky he wouldn't want.

Steve would be too polite to tell him to fuck off, he'd do it gently and it would hurt the most that way. Maybe Steve was bi  _ (dangerous thoughts) _ but even if he was, who was to say he'd choose Bucky? Bucky felt like a shell of a man after the war and seeing Steve so bright and vibrant, he looked even farther out of his reach, something whose influence could move him, but he couldn't touch himself. Standing in the sun’s rays, but unable to reach it.

“Did you dance while you were away?”

“On the corpses of the dead, yeah,” Bucky said with a grin. He pushed aside the voice in his head whispering him to tell him and instead let Steve change the topic. “Still don't know how to dance?”

“It's not that big of a deal.”

“Why don't we go out dancing?”

“It's not the 1940s, no one goes dancing nowadays Buck,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Remember our prom? Everyone just stood around awkwardly staring at each other. The only dance they did was with their tongues.”

“If only they could see you now, sweet innocent Steve Rogers getting graphic,” Bucky teased. “But seriously, it never hurts to know how to dance. The Carlton? Lindy hop? At least tell me you can waltz.”

“The waltz? How cliché can you get?”

“Hey at least I'm not asking you to square dance.” Bucky shivered mockingly. “Come on, I'll show you. You got music in this little studio, don't you?”

“Well yeah.”

Bucky grinned.

“Bucky no.”

“Bucky yes!” Bucky stood up from the couch and held out his hand to Steve, bowing. “May I have this dance, Lord Rogers of Brooklyn?”

“I'm a lord, now am I?”

“You're stalling Rogers, how about you take my hand before I need to drop to my knees and beg?”

“Oh I want to see that,” Steve said with a chuckle.

Bucky sighed and as he said, dropped to his knees. “Oh Steven Grant a Rogers, strongest in the land, with the most beautiful eyes I have ever set mine eyes on, shalt thou honour me with your hand so that we may partake in a waltz whose grace shall only be matched by your bewitching beauty?”

Steve laughed and Bucky bit his lip so he wouldn't as well, but he found himself unable to stop himself from smiling. Steve’s laugh was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard, and it was never done meanly. Occasionally he'd snicker from Bucky’s crude remarks or hushed commentary about the movie-goers in the seats in front of them, but he never directed it at anyone. 

“Eloquent as always, Sir Barnes of Brooklyn,” Steve said. 

Steve reached out and took Bucky’s hand, but Bucky knew it was just so he could laugh at him. Joke was on him when Bucky reeled back and pulled Steve against his chest forcefully. “Keep in time.”

“There’s no music.”

“Then you’ll have to listen to me. Feet apart,” Bucky directed, “Put your arm around my waist.”

“You’re taller than me, this isn’t going to work-”

“Hush, you non-believer,” Bucky chuckled. He began to hum under his breath, “Now you’re going to lead. Don’t look at your feet, look at me.”

“If I don’t look at my feet I won’t know what I’m doing, I’ll step on you for sure.”

“I can handle the pain, I’m a soldier,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Steve wasn’t doing it right, but Bucky didn’t want to correct him. The way his brow furrowed in concentration was adorable. He stepped forward and stepped on Bucky’s toe, but he didn’t say a thing. He lost his balance and held onto Bucky’s arm tightly. Bucky froze.

_ Wrong arm. _

He stilled, but Steve kept moving, trying to keep the rhythm going. It seemed he was really getting into it, he was even humming when Bucky stopped. Steve dragged Bucky around a little bit until he lost his count and stumbled.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Um, no reason,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I uh …” He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly two in the morning. “I should get going. Still got a bit of jetlag.”

Bucky had never been more awake.

“Oh. Okay.” Steve frowned slightly, but then he smiled again, pretending it was nothing. Bucky knew better, but he couldn’t bring himself to make Steve feel better, not when he felt so unsure of himself in his own skin.

When Bucky walked into his apartment, it felt so big and empty. He dropped his jacket on the couch and collapsed. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. He really needed to get it cut. He covered his face with his hand and sucked in a deep breath. Metal. The metal was cold and distant, vacant.

There was no depth to Bucky Barnes, not anymore.

_ Disgusting _ , he thought to himself _. And you touched Steve with that arm _ . He clenched the metal fist. Steve should never have to touch it, never have to know the cold metallic, inhuman feel of the machine.

_ Don’t touch him. _

_ Don’t taint him. _


End file.
